He hesitated for just a moment before taking it, his fingers brushing against hers. The brief touch sent a tingling sensation up her arm that lingered even after he lifted the drink to his lips. Sipping carefully, some of the tension in his shoulders loosened.
Elizabeth remained at his side, watching him in silence. His attack reminded her of the ones Kitty used to get as she was recovering from her pneumonia as a child.Poor man, to be so afflicted as an adult.
After another sip, he lowered the glass and exhaled slowly. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
“Shall I fetch your friend for you?”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head.
Her stomach tightened.Is he angry with me again? Did he not wish for my assistance?
Then she looked into his eyes and saw reflected in them a hint of desperation, not anger. It was the same pained expressionhe had worn inside earlier, when he had been suppressing his cough.
Understanding dawned. “I think I understand,” she said gently. “Speaking makes it worse, does it not?”
He opened his mouth to reply, and she hastily added, “No need to strain yourself. You may nod or shake your head as you like.”
After looking at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, he gave a small incline of his head.
“My sister, Kitty, is the same way. She contracted influenza at a young age, and it left her with a horrible cough. I am so sorry; I remember the pain was quite agonizing at times for her.”
He gave a brief nod again. Reaching for the small purse attached to her wrist, Elizabeth unfastened it and withdrew a tiny sachet of powders wrapped in a scrap of muslin. “My uncle, who owned an importing business in London at the time, used his contacts to make inquiries in far-off countries on their local treatments. After much trial and error, we finally found a combination of herbs from the Far East that work well.”
Darcy watched her intently as she spoke, his dark eyes fixed on her face. Swallowing, she continued. “Kitty is much better now, but if she exerts herself too much—like dancing—her breathing grows difficult again. I always keep some of these herbs with me.”
He remained silent, the weight of his gaze boring into her. She cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious about her ramblings. “Did you fall ill as a child?”
A brief nod.
“Did the smoke from the London fire make it worse?”
Another nod.
“I suspected as much.” Elizabeth sighed. “The air was dreadful for days afterwards.” She lifted the sachet slightly. “Usually, I steep this in hot water for Kitty, but lemonade serves just as well in a pinch. Would you like to try it?”
He hesitated, his gaze flickering from her face to the small pouch in her hands. She realized in that moment just how much he was trusting her. To take an unknown remedy from a woman he technically had never been introduced to… especially given their secluded location.
I could easily claim compromise!
But before he could refuse, another cough burst from his lips, shaking his entire frame. She saw his jaw clench in frustration; then, in a rasp barely above a whisper, he said, “Please.”
Elizabeth gave a small nod and took the half-filled glass from him. Kneeling on the ground, she unwrapped the powdered herbs and began pouring them in. She swirled the glass to dissolve them as best as she could. “It will taste bitter,” she warned. “Even when we prepare it properly, we add honey and milk to make it more palatable. I am afraid you shall have to simply bear the taste.”
He gave no response, merely watching her with quiet intensity.
“No sugar, either, I am afraid. We do our best to avoid it.”
His brow furrowed slightly, and she let out a nervous giggle. “It is a rather long story, but a few years ago, my father read us an article about the abolitionist movement. There was a call to boycott sugar from the plantations that relied on slavery. Lydia—my youngest sister—was only thirteen years old at the time,and she was so moved by the idea that she insisted we all give it up.”
Something shifted in his expression. She bit her lip and swirled the mixture more quickly, her words bubbling forth. “I supposed ‘insisted’ is too gentle a word. She rather bullied us about it for days. My father protested at first, but it was far easier to concede the point than to endure her lectures on morality.”
Something like amusement flickered across Darcy’s features. She gave him a small smile, then passed him the glass. “I am afraid I could not get all of it to dissolve—not without a way to stir it properly. I hope it helps.”
Darcy took it without a word and lifted it to his lips. He grimaced slightly at the taste but forced himself to drink it entirely.
As soon as he finished the vile concoction, Sir William’s voice echoed faintly from the assembly hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, the final dance of the evening will beLa Boulangere.”
Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “I should return before someone sees us out here alone.”
